


Service

by quaffanddoff



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Aroace Kenneth Parcell, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Introspection, Kinda Dark, Masochism, Multi, Objectification, Other, Religious Guilt, Service Kink, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quaffanddoff/pseuds/quaffanddoff
Summary: Kenneth knows his place.
Relationships: Kenneth Parcell/Everyone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Service

Kenneth had long ago become accustomed to being mistreated at work. It was completely normal to get insulted, demeaned, manipulated, tricked, sacrificed, used, and abused. He was routinely smacked, whacked, slapped, spanked, and shoved; he was regularly treated as subhuman, an animal, an object, as furniture. Oftentimes he willingly initiated his own torment: he had electrified himself, thrown himself down a flight of stairs, jumped in front of a car, deliberately induced allergic anaphylaxis, and more—and he did it all with a smile. All for the sake of the job and the people he adored.

He lived in blissful ignorance of the fact that his all-consuming love for his industry, his company, and his coworkers was not exactly reciprocated.

The power of denial was what allowed Kenneth to imagine his coworkers loved him back; that same power was what allowed his coworkers to consider themselves good people despite the cruelty they heaped on him. 

In reality, when his coworkers bothered to think about him at all, they only thought about what he could do for them. Some of them took a borderline sadistic pleasure in thinking of new ways to take advantage of him, to extort his obedience and generosity. Some liked letting off steam by making him into their scapegoat, their punching bag, their whipping boy. 

However, once in a while, somebody actually recognized that he might have an internal life with thoughts, feelings, and his own distinct point of view. In those rare cases, they would often find themselves wondering something like: How does he do it? What does he think about being everyone’s patsy, their stooge, their doormat? How does he cope with the stress day after day, for years on end? How does he handle being at the bottom of the food chain? Everyone needs a release—what’s his?

They might spend a moment or two speculating about the answer before returning to their own problems. Sometimes they even guessed correctly. But even when they got it right, they didn’t really understand it.

The truth was that Kenneth’s stress and his stress release were one and the same. 

Service. 

*

Kenneth considered himself blessed to be unafflicted by the typical carnal urges and appetites that plagued most people. When he watched others struggle against the impure desires and drives that he knew would doom them to damnation, he felt profoundly grateful that he seemed to be entirely devoid of those kinds of passions. After all, he had been raised to believe that lust was an unforgivable sin, chastity a vital virtue.

Yes, he had felt some strange, queasy flutterings for that pretty blind girl and that sweet TGS dancer, but those anomalous feelings were quickly quashed and hadn't since resurfaced. He wasn’t sure what to make of those aberrations, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Those feelings were more romantic than sexual, anyway, and he figured that was probably less sinful.

He felt lucky, even smug, that he never had to worry about succumbing to such temptations. 

However, on some level, he recognized that he did have a few of his own unique…predilections. And while they weren’t explicitly forbidden in any version of the Bible that he had read, he knew instinctively that there was something somehow indecent about them. Something unnatural. He would never admit it to anyone, not to his reverend, not even to himself—but he knew deep down that, in his own way, he got off on them.

Being yelled at or pushed around. Humiliated or hurt. Being subjugated, dehumanized, or objectified. Something about it lit a spark in him. He loved to be reminded that all that he's good for is serving others. He loved to be pushed beyond his limits. It was a type of masochistic gratification that definitely wasn’t sexual…but wasn’t definitely non-sexual, either. 

It was deeply satisfying. It made him feel purposeful. He experienced it as strangely stimulating to be used like a handy tool, an instrument with none of its own preferences, no subjectivity. He never wanted any praise, never needed any acknowledgement. Compliance was just in his nature. Fulfilling his insatiable need for subservience made him feel guilty and thrilled in equal measure. Even just thinking about his devotion to his coworkers, even just planning new ways to serve them, turned him on. Not like _that._

But yeah, kind of like that. 

He never felt compelled to escalate it any further. He was perfectly happy, _deliriously_ happy in fact, with the status quo: continually getting hurt the way that they were all so eager to hurt him. It was a symbiotic relationship, a harmonious exchange. Everyone involved felt as though they were getting the better end of the deal. At the end of the day, his coworkers didn’t need to know why he kept letting it happen or exactly how much he enjoyed it. They didn't need to know what he thought about it when he was alone late at night. They didn’t _want_ to know. They didn’t care. All they cared about was using him. And that was all he wanted. 


End file.
